I HAVE to be asked twice to dance to ‘Crimson & Clover’ in the middle of the night, in the middle of a country road.
On night one I plead fatigue. On night two, I mentally run through excuses ranging from hysteria to a twisted ankle, then agree. We jump up onto the hood of the ute and dance in the moonlight – snickering possums and grumbling ute bonnets be blowed.
Keeper: Yes.
Hey man, now you're really living 
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